The kid had a limp grip that left Jackson moderately unworried about the state of his baby sister’s innocence. His gaze flicked to Jackson’s shirt. “Hope you don’t get beat up,” Stone said.
“Ain’t too worried.”
Anna Grace’s foot tapped. Jackson let the kid’s hand go, and Louisa promptly wrapped herself back around the yahoo’s arm. “Maybe we’ll see you there,” she said. She looked down at Anna, and her composure faltered. “Nice to see you today, Just Anna.”
“You too, sugar.”
Louisa dragged the loser out the front door. Momma heaved another big old sigh. “Your grandmother must’ve loved her,” she said with a nod toward Anna.
Jackson couldn’t answer.
Couldn’t talk through laughing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It took him years to find love, minutes to discover loving and being loved were not one in the same.
—The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels
Despite Anna’s fears that she was entirely too attached to Jackson, she found herself humming at work Monday morning.
Until she realized Jules had mis-color-coded half of the work she did over the long weekend.
The re-color-coding didn’t bother her. Days like this restored her faith in her job. Not that she didn’tlikeher job. Exactly. She appreciated the paycheck. The tuition assistance. The security.
But it wasn’tfun.
Nor was thinking about how Jules worked all weekend. If Jules had been at work, she wouldn’t have had the good family time she and Brad needed. They’d looked good together lately too. Jules had announced her pregnancy. She was gaining weight, glowing even.
Being nice.
But when she dragged herself in to work Monday morning, she plopped up on Anna’s desk, skewing the calendar, and started rearranging the desk organizer. “Enjoy meeting the parents?” she asked Anna.
“Not really, but his grandmother’s cool. How about you? Nice Thanksgiving?”
“Brad made nice with his parents this weekend. Got too touchy-feely, so I came in here.”
“But otherwise good?”
Jules plunked the staple remover into the Post-it Note holder. “I ate too much. Don’t suppose you have leftover pie?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“And here I thought we were friends.” She slid off the desk, but she was as smiley as she used to be, which wasn’t very smiley for most people but looked positively psychotically happy on Jules. “Quit goofing off. We’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, your holy maternity-ness,” Anna said.
And Jules—irritable, screwed up, snarky Jules—laughed.
For the firsttime in almost two years, Jackson was hunting.
Alone.
That made him one happy hunter.
Or it should’ve.
The weather was perfect. A bit on the crisp side, overcast skies, wind carrying the chirp of the fall birds. He was snug and alert in a prime deer-watching spot.
